Specter of the Past

by Timothy Zahn

  “No, I wasn’t,” Luke agreed, a little defensively. Because Han was right; he had indeed gotten a little flashy at other times in the past. Many times, in fact.

  But only when it was necessary, and only to accomplish some great and noble goal. His power in the Force had saved his life numerous times, and Han’s life, and the lives of countless others. In none of those instances had he had any other choice.

  And yet …

  Luke stared out the canopy at the distant stars. And yet there was Obi-Wan Kenobi, his first teacher in the Force. A powerful Jedi, who’d nevertheless allowed himself to be cut down on the first Death Star rather than sweep Vader and the stormtroopers away with a wave of his hand.

  And there was Yoda, who had surely had as deep an understanding of the Force as anyone in recent history. If Luke’s own current level of knowledge was any indication, Yoda could surely have defeated the Emperor all by himself. Yet he’d chosen instead to leave that task to Luke and the Rebel Alliance.

  And there was Callista. A woman he’d loved … who had run away from him because his power had somehow intimidated and frightened her.

  “Look, Luke, it might not mean anything,” Han’s voice came into his thoughts. “You know how alien minds work sometimes.”

  “Yes,” Luke murmured. But it was clearly not something to be dismissed out of hand. It was a question he needed to study, and to meditate on, and to discuss with his family and closest friends.

  He shuddered, that horrifying vision of a laughing Emperor flickering across his memory. And he’d better do it fast.

  But as Han had said, one crisis at a time. Pulling up the X-wing’s nose, he eased into escort formation beside the transports and headed in.

  CHAPTER

  3

  For a long moment Leia Organa Solo just stood there, the restless breezes of the Wayland forest rustling through her hair, staring at the gold-colored protocol droid twitching nervously in front of her. There were, she reflected distantly, very few things in the galaxy anymore that could shock her speechless. Han Solo, her husband and father of her three children, was apparently still one of them. “He did what?”

  It was a rhetorical question, of course. Possibly a way of confirming to herself that her voice still functioned. C-3PO either didn’t realize that or else didn’t want to risk guessing wrong. “He and Chewbacca have gone to Iphigin, Your Highness,” the droid repeated, his voice miserable. “Several hours ago, shortly after you left on your tour. I tried to stop them, but he wouldn’t listen. Please don’t deactivate me.”

  Leia took a careful breath, stretching out to the Force to calm herself—apparently, she looked angrier than she actually was—and tried to think. Han would be on Iphigin by now, probably already engaged in a dialogue with the Diamalan and Ishori delegations. She could have her honor guard fly her there in one of their ships, calling ahead and telling Han to declare a recess until she arrived. The children she could leave here; the rest of the Noghri could look after them until she and Han returned. Alternatively, she could get in touch with President Gavrisom and have him send someone else out there to take over.

  But either approach would make Han’s effort an obvious and embarrassing false start, hardly the sort of thing that would bolster the already low opinion the Diamala had of New Republic capabilities. In fact, depending on how seriously the Diamala chose to take it, it could easily make things worse than if she just left Han alone.

  Besides, he was a hero of the Rebellion, and both the Diamala and Ishori appreciated that sort of thing. And after years of watching her handle this sort of negotiation, he must surely have picked up a trick or two.

  “Oh—one other thing,” Threepio spoke up hesitantly. “Captain Solo also made one other call before he and Chewbacca left. I believe it was to Master Luke.”

  Leia smiled wryly, her first real smile since Threepio had broken the news. She should have guessed that Han hadn’t just rushed in on this thing alone. He’d conned Luke into going with him.

  Threepio was still standing there looking nervous. “It’s all right, Threepio,” she soothed him. “Once Han gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him. He and Luke should be able to handle things.”

  The droid seemed to wilt with relief. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he murmured.

  Leia turned away from him and looked back across the clearing. Her youngest son, Anakin, was crouched down beside one of the slender airspeeders the group had just arrived in, and even at this distance she could hear the mix of seriousness and excitement in the eight-year-old’s voice as he discussed the finer points of design with the Noghri pilot. Standing a little way to one side beside the Mobquet speeder bikes that had flown escort for them, the twins Jacen and Jaina were watching with the air of stressed patience that came naturally of being a whole year and a half older and wiser than their younger brother. Grouped around the children and vehicles were the short gray figures of their Noghri escort, the bulk of their attention directed outward. Even here at the edge of a Noghri settlement, they were continually on the alert for danger. Beyond them, rising above the forest, Leia could see the top of Mount Tantiss.

  “Welcome back, Lady Vader,” a gravelly Noghri mew came from beside her.

  “Oh, my!” Threepio said, jerking back.

  Only long experience—and her strength of calmness in the Force—kept Leia from doing the same. Even when they weren’t particularly trying to be quiet, Noghri were next to impossible to hear. One of the many reasons why Grand Admiral Thrawn, and Darth Vader before him, had so coveted their services as private Death Commandos for the Empire.

  Had coveted that service so much, in fact, that they’d deliberately destroyed the Noghri homeworld of Honoghr, keeping the Noghri at a perpetual edge of disaster. A disaster that had been carefully structured to keep them in eternal servitude.

  Leia had helped them discover the truth about the Empire’s deceit. But though it had brought the Noghri firmly onto the side of the New Republic, it had in many ways been a hollow victory for all concerned. Despite the effort that had been put into the New Republic’s restoration project over the past ten years, hopes were steadily fading that Honoghr could ever be truly brought back to life. And though the Noghri seemed reasonably content with their new settlements here on Wayland, Leia could hear the quiet sadness in their voices whenever they spoke of home.

  Alderaan, her own homeworld, had been shattered to dust before her eyes by the first Death Star. Honoghr, brown and dead, had been destroyed more subtly but no less thoroughly. Unknown numbers of others, all across the galaxy, had been ravaged by the war against the Empire.

  Some of those wounds would take a long time to heal. Others never would.

  “I greet you, Cakhmaim clan Eikh’mir,” she said to the Noghri standing beside her. “I trust all is well?”

  “All is well and quiet,” Cakhmaim said gravely, giving her the Noghri bow of respect. “With perhaps one small exception.”

  “I know,” Leia said. “Han and Chewie took off while we were on the tour.”

  Cakhmaim frowned. “Was he not to leave?” he demanded, his voice suddenly darker. “He told us he was summoned.”

  “No, it’s all right,” Leia said quickly. Relations between Han and the Noghri had never been quite as relaxed as she might have liked, and she had no desire to add this incident onto anyone’s grudge list. “He should have talked to me first, but it’s all right. He probably just didn’t want me worrying about New Republic politics for a while.”

  Cakhmaim peered up at her. “If I may say so, Lady Vader, I must concur with Han clan Solo in this thought. Reports from your honor guard make it clear that you spend too little time in needed relaxation.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Leia admitted. “It comes of having both a family and a job to do, and a limited number of hours per day to share between them. Maybe now that Ponc Gavrisom’s taken over the Presidency for a while, things will be easier.”

  “Perhaps,”
Cakhmaim said, not sounding any more convinced of that than Leia herself felt. “Still, while the Noghri people live, you shall always have a place of refuge among us. You and your children and their children. Always.”

  “I appreciate that, Cakhmaim,” Leia said, and meant it. There were very few places in the galaxy where she could feel as safe, both for herself and her children, as she did inside a Noghri settlement. “But you mentioned a problem. Tell me.”

  “I now hesitate to involve you, Lady Vader,” Cakhmaim said uncertainly. “You came here for relaxation, not to settle disputes. Further, I would dislike to take you away from your firstsons and firstdaughter.”

  “The children are doing fine right where they are,” Leia assured him, looking back at the group. Anakin was halfway underneath the airspeeder now, with a pair of Noghri legs sticking out alongside his. The twins still had that strained-patient look as they talked quietly together, but Leia could see Jaina’s hand fondly stroking the saddle of one of the speeder bikes. “Anakin has inherited his father’s love of puzzles,” she told Cakhmaim. “And the twins aren’t nearly as bored as they might pretend. Tell me about this dispute.”

  “As you wish,” Cakhmaim said. “Please come with me.”

  Leia nodded. “Threepio, you might as well stay here.”

  “Certainly, Your Highness,” the droid said, a definite note of relief in his voice. Threepio hated disputes.

  The two of them walked a short distance through the trees to a second clearing, this one the main part of the Noghri’s Mount Tantiss settlement. Clustered together were perhaps thirty houses, built to the same basic design of the homes Leia had seen on Honoghr, though modified by the differences in local building materials. In the middle was the longer, somewhat taller dukha clan center.

  Other Noghri settlements on Wayland had transported their ancient clan dukhas from Honoghr, making them the honored focal points of their villages on this world just as they had been back home. But the Mount Tantiss settlement had a specific mission to perform; and part of that mission was to never forget what the Empire and Emperor had taken from the Noghri people. Their clan center, freshly built from local lumber and stone, was a permanent and graphic reminder of that loss.

  The dukha door was flanked by a pair of straight-backed Noghri children, performing their door-warder duties with the seriousness of generations of custom and ritual. One of them pulled open the door, and Cakhmaim and Leia stepped inside.

  The clan center consisted of a single large room, roofed with heavy wooden beams, with walls on which the history and genealogy of the settlement had begun to be carved. Two-thirds of the way back was the thronelike High Seat, the only chair in the room.

  And seated on the floor at the foot of the High Seat, dressed in dirt-stained clothing, was a Devaronian. “Ah,” he said, favoring Cakhmaim with a thin smile as he got to his feet. “My kindly host. I hope you brought food; I am beginning to get hungry.” He shifted his attention to Leia. “And you, I take it, are the wandering decision-maker I was promised?”

  “This is New Republic High Councilor Leia Organa Solo,” Cakhmaim identified her, his voice edged with knives. “You will speak to her with respect.”

  “Of course,” the Devaronian said dryly, touching the rightmost of his two forehead horns with the fingertips of his right hand. “I would never speak otherwise to an official of the New Republic.”

  “Of course not,” Leia said, matching his tone as she stretched out toward him with the Force. Male Devaronians were avid travelers and a common sight in the spaceports of the galaxy, but there had been few if any of them in the Rebel Alliance and she had never had much personal contact with the species. “And your name?” she asked, trying to get a reading on his thoughts and emotions.

  “I am Lak Jit, Councilor. A simple seeker of knowledge and truth.”

  Leia smiled. “Of course,” she said, focusing a bit harder on his thoughts. There was no change she could detect that would indicate a lie, but given her unfamiliarity with the species that didn’t mean much. More than likely it was no more than a bending or embellishment of the truth, anyway. “Tell me about this dispute, Cakhmaim.”

  “This alien was discovered near Mount Tantiss by one of the cleansing teams,” Cakhmaim said, his gaze hard on the Devaronian. “He had been digging through the soil in the fault line area and had found six datacards. When the team attempted to take them from him, he claimed possession under the Debble Agreement.”

  “Really,” Leia said, eyeing the Devaronian with new interest. The Debble Agreement was a slice-of-the-moment compromise deal she’d worked out between the Noghri cleansing teams, who had sworn to eradicate every memory of the Emperor’s presence on Wayland, and Garv Debble, a New Republic archaeologist who had insisted that items plundered from other worlds should be returned to their proper owners. The agreement had been informal and reasonably private, hardly something a casual treasure hunter would know about. “Tell me, Lak Jit, how did you come to know about the Debble Agreement?”

  “Quite honestly, Councilor, I assure you,” the Devaronian said. “I am associated with a human who I believe has had some dealings with the New Republic. Talon Karrde.”

  “I see,” Leia said, keeping her voice and face expressionless. To say that Talon Karrde had had dealings with the New Republic was to vastly understate the case. Smuggler chief and information broker, with an organization that stretched across the known galaxy, Karrde had reluctantly thrown in with the New Republic during the massive Imperial counteroffensive led by Grand Admiral Thrawn. More than that, he’d put together an unlikely coalition of fellow smugglers that had played a significant role in stopping Thrawn’s advance and ultimately defeating him. The coalition had drifted apart over the years, but Leia had made an effort to keep somewhat in touch with Karrde himself.

  A presence brushed at the back of her mind, and she turned as Jacen came into the room. “Mom, when are we going to the mountain?” he asked, throwing an incurious look at the Devaronian. “You said we’d be going to see the mountain after the other tour.”

  “We’ll go soon, honey,” Leia said. “Just a little business to clear up first.”

  Jacen frowned. “I thought we weren’t going to have any business here.”

  “It’ll just take a minute,” Leia assured him.

  “But I’m bored,” he insisted. He looked at Lak Jit again, and Leia could sense the effort as the child reached out with his limited abilities in the Force. “Are you my mom’s business?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Lak Jit said with another thin smile. “And she is right: it will only take a minute. Councilor Organa Solo, it should be clear that historical datacards are precisely the sort of thing the Debble Agreement was created to protect. Therefore—”

  “We have only your statement that the datacards are historical,” Cakhmaim put in. “We must study them ourselves.”

  “Agreed,” Leia said before the Devaronian could object. Unfortunately, that kind of examination could take hours, and the children were waiting. “Here’s the offer, Lak Jit. I’ll take the datacards, paying you five hundred now as earnest money. After I’ve examined them, the New Republic will pay you whatever they’re worth.”

  “And who will decide that value?” Lak Jit demanded.

  “I will,” Leia said. “Or, if you prefer, I can take the datacards back to Coruscant and ask Councilor Sien Siev or another historical expert to evaluate them.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Leia nodded toward Cakhmaim. “Would you prefer I let the Noghri set the price?”

  Lak Jit grimaced, an expression that came across as just another Devaronian smile, only thinner. “I seem to have no alternative.” He stepped forward, thrusting out a stack of datacards. “Here, then. Evaluate. Since you have not brought me food, would you and your hosts object if I went and foraged while you work?”

  “You said just a minute, Mom,” Jacen spoke up.

  “Quiet, Jacen,” Leia said, gingerly taking t
he stack of datacards and doing a quick count of the edges. Six of them, all right, as filthy and dirt-stained as Lak Jit’s clothing. They’d probably been blown out of Mount Tantiss with the general cloud of debris when Chewbacca and Lando Calrissian set off the base’s power reactor, and had been lying buried in the Wayland soil ever since.

  Lak Jit cleared his throat. “May I—?”

  “Yes, go,” Leia cut him off. She hadn’t realized Devaronians foraged for food, and she certainly wasn’t interested in the details. “Jacen, be quiet. It’ll just be another minute. I promise.”

  “Please be quick,” Lak Jit said, and disappeared out the door.

  “Mom—”

  “If you’re bored, why don’t you ask Cakhmaim to show you the history they’re carving in the walls here,” Leia suggested, gingerly brushing at the dirt covering the top datacard. “Or go join the Noghri children in their fighting class. I think Mobvekhar was going to be teaching them leverage holds today.”

  Jacen sniffed. “Jedi don’t need that stuff. We have the Force.”

  “You’re not a Jedi yet,” Leia reminded him, giving him a stern look. She wasn’t exactly happy about this interruption in their vacation either, but all his whining was accomplishing was to drag it out further. “If you were, you’d know that just because you have the Force doesn’t mean you can ignore the condition of your physical body. The Noghri combat classes are good exercise.”

  “So’s hiking up the mountain,” Jacen countered. “So when are we going?”

  “When I’m done,” Leia said firmly, finishing her cleanup job and peering at the datacard’s label. Listings of the Fourth Pestoriv Conference, it said. Nothing important there, one way or the other: the Pestoriv Conferences had been completely open, and just as completely documented.

  Unless the Emperor had had his own private version of what had gone on there. Something to check out later, though the datacard would have to be thoroughly cleaned before she would be willing to risk it in her datapad. Shifting the datacard to the bottom of the stack, she peered at the label of the second. Equally innocuous: something about Ri’Dar mating dances. The third datacard—